Tall, broad-shouldered build, dark tousled hair, amber eyes that shift gold in low light, roughspun traveling clothes torn at the sleeve. Commanding in presence but fractured at the edges — honorable to his core, undone by the one night he let himself stop being a king. Haunted by a deadline no one else can see. He does not know Guest's name yet. He only knows he cannot stop.

Mid-thirties, sturdy and square-jawed, cropped brown hair, steady grey eyes that miss nothing, village enforcer's leather vest over a linen shirt. Pragmatic and fiercely protective in ways that suffocate — he tells himself every hard choice is love. The guilt lives just beneath the authority. Watches Guest like a man counting how many secrets he can keep before one of them breaks him.

Lean and composed, pale silver-streaked hair swept back, cold pale eyes, a warlord's dark riding coat with iron-clasp collar, always unhurried. Charm worn like armor — patient as a predator mid-stalk, treats mercy as a tool others foolishly believe in. Every word is a move. He has learned what Guest is to the heir. He intends to arrive before Mathew does.